Posts Tagged ‘knees’

Finally, after multiple flus, sicknesses, diseases, hospital visits, parental visits, a birthday and a holiday, I have finally found time to sit down and think, and to actually compose a post.

To all those I owe an email, I promise it’s coming. I know it’s been a while, but all I can say about that is: sorry! With everything that’s been going on email has been last (more so than usual) on my priority list.

Everyone is healthy now, and we’re actually home, and no one is panicking and no one is visiting. So, I have time to post!

After two weeks of rain we were finally able to mow the grass! The front yard went pretty quickly, but the back yard, oh man!!! The last time I mowed I didn’t do the back yard, because it’s fenced in and no one sees it. Then it rained for two weeks. The grass was up to my knees, and getting worse! I learned three very important lessons from this experience:

1) If the grass is this long, use a weedeater first to make it shorter.
2) Wait for the mower blade to stop turning before putting your hand under the mower to clean it out.
3) If at all possible, pay someone else to take care of your lawn.

Now that all my TV shows are wrapping up their seasons, I will finally have time to do other, more important, more wholesome things. Things like watch Baby Ziggie wrestle the dog, see how many peaches I can eat before I get sick, how many servers I can build from old computers, and which will happen first: I email everyone promptly or hell forming a hockey team.

We shall see!

My mom came to visit a few weeks ago. The trip was originally to see her grandson (and if she saw me, all the better). Instead, she ended up playing caretaker to a sick grand baby, a sick daughter in law, and a frantic son. It had fallen to me to take care of the sickos.
Sunday marked my 26th year on this planet. Frightening. Even more frightening is I haven’t done anything with it. When I was young, I wanted to be an astronaut teacher (you know, teach on the moon). When I was a teenager I wanted to be a youth pastor, for there was no higher calling. In college, I stumbled into the computer world where I’ve been trying to make sense of the world ever since. C’est la vie.
One thing about getting older is that I don’t feel as much like a kid. I know what you’re thinking: how blatantly duh can he get with this statement, but seriously hear me out. In dealing with business customers, bosses, and fellow co-workers in my previous job (the one I got at 21) I always felt like a kid. I felt like everyone thought of me as a kid and looked down on me as one (and in a way they did). Even at 25, I felt that way. Now, I started this job as a 25 year old and everyone treats me like an adult. They don’t look at me as the kid they hired. Maybe I’m just rambling and should be told to shut up.
Time for me to brag about my son. He is now 2 years old (plus 4 months). The last time he was at the doctor for a checkup we found out he is in the 50th percentile for height — for 4 year olds!! He’s 3’2 and 33 lbs. Physically, the kid can do anything. His favorite phrase is “I do it” and he takes it all to task. There are a few things I won’t let him do even though he wants to (pouring his milk and driving the car for example), and there are loads of things he can do.

Plus, his vocabulary is expanding every day. Every time I come home from work he is spouting off (incessently) whatever new word(s) he learned that day. He can count to three, and he recognizes yellow, red, purple, and white (sometimes blue). He knows a few of the letters of the alphabet (the rest are all ‘K’) and is taking steps towards potty training.

And the entire time, the only thing I’m thinking: “I used to hold you in the palm of my hand…”